Cold feet
by Jammeke
Summary: Rodney's done the math. He's compared John's body length to the length of his bed, and decides to confront his friend. Mention of Sheppard/Weir.


**Title: **Cold feet

**Author: **Jammeke

**Rating: **T

**Pairing: **Mention of Sheppard/Weir

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I don't own Stargate Atlantis.

**A/N: **This story is set in the back of season 4.

**Cold feet**

"I just don't get it."

John didn't even glance sideways. He knew what was expected of him, but he didn't feel like asking what Rodney was talking about. There was also the knowledge that his friend wasn't good at keeping silent, and would therefore elaborate soon enough.

He didn't have to wait long.

"I mean, look at you," Rodney said exasperatedly, gesturing at John's body. He seemed strangely frustrated.

John sighed and pressed the pause-button on his laptop.

They were sitting in his room, their backs resting against John's bed. Ever since Rodney's near death experience last year, when he'd become affected by the Ascension-machine, they had taken to spending more quality time together in either John or Rodney's quarters. Usually, they watched movies in Rodney's room, but Rodney had been strangely insistent they go to John's quarters today. John didn't mind.

Or at least, he _hadn't_ minded. But Rodney had not been able to concentrate on the movie all night and damn it, John _liked _the movie. He had gotten Lorne to lend him the DVD in exchange for some of Teyla's self-baked cookies, for which he'd felt horribly guilty at the time, because Lorne didn't know Teyla couldn't cook as well as, well, everything else the Athosian did, and he'd been looking forward to this moment for days. So what was it that Rodney needed to get off his chest?

"What do you mean, look at me?" he demanded, sounding not nearly as annoyed as he had the right to be.

Rodney shook his head. "I thought I was wrong, figured I must have miscalculated the lengths – but I gave it some closer scrutiny over the past few minutes, and clearly I _was_ right. It just doesn't add up. Why would you put yourself through that every night? I mean, it has to be really uncomfortable…"

"_Rodney_!"

Rodney looked strangely unfazed by John's annoyance. "Your bed. It's too short for you. I'd tell you to get another one, but I don't remember your bed being this short when we first arrived on Atlantis, which means you've dragged it in here yourself. Why did you do that? What, do you enjoy hurting yourself?" Suddenly, his jaw dropped. "You don't torture yourself over the lives you failed to save, do you? Because that would be so… _typically_ you! Wait, show me your wrists."

John could only stare at Rodney, who looked completely serious.

"Well?"

At last, John regained the ability to speak. "I don't cut my wrists, Rodney. And I do _not_ torture myself."

"Then what is it?" Rodney pressed.

John closed his eyes for a second. "It's nothing personal, Rodney, but… I really don't want to say."

It was silent for a moment. Then, "Oh," as if that thought hadn't occurred to the scientist.

John sighed. "I didn't move this bed into my room because I wanted a smaller bed, Rodney. I've dragged it in here for other reasons." He sincerely hoped that would be enough to put his friend's mind at rest. "Can we watch the movie now?"

Rodney shook his head. "No, I'm getting to the bottom of this. Unless you give me one good reason why I shouldn't send you to Ka- the new psychologist, I will not let this subject drop. I'm…" He shrugged uncomfortably, "worried. About you," he added as an afterthought.

John sighed. "All right. But you have to promise me you won't tell anyone."

Rodney looked unsure for a moment. "I don't know, Colonel… I may decide Jennifer needs to know."

"It has nothing to do with my health," John said impatiently. He was getting irritated again. "Do you want to hear this or not?" Maybe telling Rodney wouldn't be such a bad thing. It might just help him get things straight in his own mind. He knew the scientist wasn't known for his empathic nature, but he didn't think Rodney would laugh at him either. Whether he would understand, though, John didn't know.

Rodney settled more comfortable against the side of the bed and gave him an expectant look. "Go ahead."

John nodded slowly to himself. "The bed is… _was_ Elizabeth's."

The silence that followed had to be the longest Rodney had ever put up with. John knew he'd put Rodney in an uncomfortable position, but his friend has asked for the truth, and since John knew they were both terrible at expressing their feelings, he figured they could at least suck at this together.

"You took Elizabeth's bed?" Rodney finally managed.

John merely nodded.

Rodney was silent for another moment. "I thought Sam moved into her quarters?"

John couldn't suppress a smile at the memory of dragging an unoccupied bed through the corridors of Atlantis in the middle of the night. The new commander had not yet been announced at the time, but it had been obvious that Elizabeth's quarters would be reassigned to the new expedition leader. Teyla had helped him sort through most of Elizabeth's belongings during the day, but it wasn't until later that night that panic had struck. The idea of someone else sleeping in her bed had been too much for John to bear. He'd acted on pure instinct, but he'd never once regretted his actions. Too many wonderful things had happened in Elizabeth's bed. He was glad he hadn't allowed for a stranger's presence to wash away all the memories.

"I've replaced it with another one," he explained.

"Ah."

Elizabeth's scent had long faded from the sheets. But whenever he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, John could still feel her lingering presence. It strenghtened him in his belief that she watched over him at night.

John was so caught up in his own memories, he'd almost forgotten about Rodney. But the scientist was persistent.

"So, why do you want to sleep in Elizabeth's bed?"

John studied Rodney's face. His friend's expression was carefully neutral, as if Rodney hadn't yet considered what his question might imply.

"Because…" He was at a loss for words.

Slowly, realization sunk in, and his friend's eyes grew big as saucers. "You two…?" Rodney offered helpfully, waving his hands as if to indicate… well, something.

"I guess, yes." John sent him a grateful glance.

"Hm." Rodney remained silent for a while. "You know, I always suspected there was something weird going on between the two of you, but I never thought you were actually… _you know_."

There was no way John couldn't smile at that. "We couldn't exactly shout it from the rooftops, could we?"

"No, I suppose you couldn't." Rodney shook his head. "So… you…" he cleared his throat, "miss her a lot?"

John pressed the on-button again, not particularly wanting to answer his friend's question. The screen came to life, and he stared at the screen in silence, not really interested in watching the movie anymore. Rodney, too, seemed to be too deep in thought to pay much attention to the plot. Neither of them gasped at the big reveal near the end of the movie.

When the credits started to roll, John closed his eyes. "Yes," he managed roughly. Rodney seemed to have developed a sudden interest in his nightstand, allowing John the chance to wipe away the tears that threatened to roll down his face. No words were spoken, but Rodney's comforting hand on his back told John more than words ever could.

After that night, Rodney never carelessly plopped down on John's bed again.

The end


End file.
